


Catch the Sun

by Bus_Kids_Burgade (Inthemorninglight)



Series: Never Have to Carry More than You Can Hold [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jemma wants a pet snake, Mama May and her Ducklings, daisy lives to embarrass may on film, little bit of ptsd Jemma, zoo fieldtrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9097525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthemorninglight/pseuds/Bus_Kids_Burgade
Summary: May, Daisy, and Jemma take a detour to an animal sanctuary.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set mid s3

Daisy groans as she pitches her tactical gear into a corner of the cramped hotel room. 

 

“I’m going to eat an entire frozen pizza and sleep for thirty hours and if anyone gets in my way, I’ll sucker punch them, just so you know.” 

 

May, discarding her own equipment more quietly behind Daisy, gives a twitch of her chin to show she seconds the plan. 

 

It’s midnight. They’ve been in the city four days now, the last 40 hours of which May and Daisy have spent shimmying through the ventilation system of an impressively horrifying underground laboratory while Jemma alternated between talking them through neutralizing chemical bombs and slowly tearing the room apart in agitation. Her research is strewn over both beds, the floor, and even taped up over the TV screen. There are four laptops humming away on various odd perches, and for some reason all the bedding is heaped beside the heater. 

 

Daisy pauses on her way to the mini fridge to raise her eyebrows at the row of wine glasses half-full of dubiously neon-bright substances, but decides she is too exhausted to ask. 

Daisy and May would gladly devour the pizza cold, but Jemma, looking slightly ill, insists it will only take a minute to heat up with some micro-blast-ray-thingy Fitz threw together. It takes more like ten minutes, at the end of which Daisy and May look ready to make a meal of the ray gun itself to liberate the pizza, but Daisy has to admit, as the three of them sit on the floor of the kitchenette, the pizza between her and May, it’s way better without the ice crystals. 

 

“I want to be on the jet by seven tomorrow morning,” May tells them, cutting her eyes pointedly at the explosion of papers and Daisy’s mountain of gear and clothing and hard drives spilling from her open suitcases.

 

Daisy’s about to grouse, but Jemma makes a noise that’s somewhere between a hum and a squeak. They both look at her.

 

“What is it?” Daisy asks. 

 

She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Nothing! Nothing - well. I just - but it’s silly -” 

 

“Simmons,” May says, folding her arms. 

 

“There’s a zoo,” Jemma blurts out, tangling her fingers together as a hopeful look flashing across her face. 

 

May and Daisy exchange a look as Jemma scrambles for a stack of brochures. 

 

“I found these in the lobby,” she explains, thrusting the brightly colored pamphlets into their laps. 

 

“You weren’t supposed to leave the room,” May admonishes.

 

Daisy plucks one of the brochures from the pile and flips it open to a picture of a tiger that is, inarguably, kind of stunning. 

 

“It’s actually more of a wildlife preserve,” Jemma babbles. “Not cages and depressed animals being forced to put on shows, but huge habitats, much more natural. They’re one of the only facilities in the world with Kipunjis.”

 

Daisy’s exhausted and she knows May must be, too. This is her third back-to-back mission. Honestly, she just wants to wash the evil-mad-scientist stench out of her hair, put on some sweats, and not get out of bed until ten o’clock at night tomorrow, and only then to make Fitz get them Chinese from the good place across town. 

 

But Jemma’s looking at them eagerly, and Daisy suspects she’s already decided to go whether they come with her or not. 

 

“What time does this place open?” May asks with a resigned sigh. 

 

…

 

Between May’s tight schedule and Jemma just being a morning person, Daisy finds herself dragged out of bed  _ far  _ earlier than she ever should be. May makes her pack up all her crap before they leave so they can go straight to the jet after their fieldtrip, and Jemma reminds them every five minutes to pack water and sunscreen and that the first monorail through the elephant enclosure leaves at nine sharp, and Daisy is ready to strangle them both by the time she climbs out of the van in front of the animal sanctuary. 

 

She’s had three cups of coffee, and it’s not nearly enough. Jemma gets their tickets while she buys a fourth latte from a cart out front and digs her sunglasses out of her purse. May looks even less enthusiastic than she does, but that’s about how she always looks, so Jemma won’t be too put out by it. Daisy on the other hand has to dig deep to find a look of moderate anticipation (or at least a look that doesn’t scream a desire to burn the place down) as Jemma waves them impatiently toward the turnstiles. 

 

It’s a Tuesday morning, so they only have to share the broad flagstone walkways with a few rowdy elementary school groups and a handful of other tourists. It is kind of a cool atmosphere inside the gates. There’s a gift shop with a bunch of corny nicknacks in the window, a decent-looking restaurant across the high street, and over by the entrance to the North American exhibits, a cutout of a grizzly bear with a hole to stick your face in that she immediately commits to forcing May into before the day is over. If she can send a picture of that to Coulson it might make the whole thing worth it.    
  


 

Jemma’s already charted out the most efficient route through the exhibits she wants to see. She distributes maps marked with their itinerary and emergency meeting locations, then leads the way toward the elephant enclosure. 

 

A train ride Daisy can handle, especially when she finds out it’s forty-five minutes long. She settles in on the aisle seat, intending to nap the whole way, but the minute they start moving, Jemma starts talking. It’s like she physically can’t stop herself from adding to and amending the tour guide’s commentary, filling in every pause with her mile-a-minute info-drops. 

 

“...And did you know they’re considering splitting  _ Loxodonta Africanas  _ into two distinct species?  _  L. africana  _ is local to the African Bush, while  _ L. Cyclotis  _ has evolved to survive in the forest, and a lot of zoologists have  _ fascinating _ arguments for an official distinction . Well, evolution for the entire species is just jaw-dropping, really.  Their proboscis has essentially become a fifth appendage almost as versatile as the human phalanges, and the big ears are an ingenious way to regulate body temperature given their typical body mass and climatic conditions. Some weigh as much as 7,000 kg! Isn’t that incredible?...”  

 

Try as she might to tune her out, Daisy finds her own interest being piqued. The sensation is so familiar that Daisy’s first reaction is annoyance, but when she realizes how long it’s been since she’s actually had the opportunity to  _ have _ conflicting feelings about Professor Simmons chirping in her ear, her irritation dissipates like morning fog.

 

She opens her eyes and leans forward a little to watch Jemma flit between scanning the landscape with binoculars and punctuating her explanations with butterfly-fast gesticulations. It brings Daisy back to the tiny Bus lab so fast she feels a lump stick in her throat. Especially when she realizes  _ that  _ was probably the last place she saw Jemma so animated. When she glances at May, the softness in the expression she sees there startles Daisy and makes her look away self-consciously.

 

Jemma rambles pretty much non-stop at every exhibit they visit, her excitement bubbling higher as the day wears on. Sometimes she goes off on tangents about an ancient related species, sometimes she’s gushing about the diversity of the biomes, sometimes she’s just blurting out random facts as they pop into her head. Even if Daisy wasn’t basking in the sound of Jemma’s voice - which she hasn’t heard so much of since before Maveth - she’d be enjoying the commentary. She hasn’t learned so much about biology since her short-lived high school career, and even May seems to be filing away new information. Realization of the day: animals are really fucking cool.

 

Jemma’s bouncing in place by the time they reach the monkey enclosures, and Daisy can’t help but be infected by it. She skips a little bit to catch up with Jemma, looping their arms together.

 

“How jealous is Fitz going to be if I get a selfie with one of those gibbons?” she wonders. 

“He probably won’t speak to us for a week,” Jemma smirks. Then she looks concerned. “We better bring him a souvenir, right?”

 

“If it’s not an actual spider monkey, I don’t think it’ll make a difference,” Daisy laughs. 

 

They get six selfies with the gibbons behind them, their expressions becoming increasingly ridiculous. Especially next to May’s deadpan after Daisy drags her into the last two.

 

...

 

They were supposed to leave for base by noon - May insisted on it this morning. But it’s after two now and she hasn’t said a word about finding the exit. She does make them stop for food though, and sitting at the sticky picnic table next to Jemma, watching May pay for a soft pretzel and a slushie for each of them, she’s struck by the  _ normalcy  _ of this moment. 

 

She never did this when she was a kid. The nuns took them places, but that was ten screaming kids and two screaming nuns and no one ever bought her a soft pretzel. She’d gone to Central Park and Navy Pier and a bunch of other tourist traps with Miles, but they usually hopped the turnstiles and had to steal or pickpocket to get anything and spent most of the time making out in off-limits places. 

 

This is just… going to the zoo with her family. She looks around at their fellow diners, mostly kids with their parents eating greasy, overpriced cart food and slurping brightly colored drinks, and for the first time doesn’t feel that familiar bitter jealousy at the back of her mouth. 

 

...

 

There’s a bird house full of beautiful tropical birds and Daisy wants to get a parrot to land on her shoulder, but Jemma won’t go inside. (“Do you know how sharp their claws are? They could tear your flesh to ribbons in seconds.” “Next time we’re bringing Bobbi.”)

 

They do stop into the petting zoo area, though, and May with a lamb in her lap is probably Daisy’s favorite part of the whole trip. 

 

“Why don’t we have a pet?” Daisy asks as the lamb sucks on her finger. “Not a  _ sheep  _ obviously,” she says when May gives her a look. “But a cat would be nice.” 

 

“Or a python,” Jemma suggests, lighting up. “Or a couple iguanas…” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Red eye tree frogs?” 

 

“What about a dog. Like just a golden retriever.” 

 

“Hunter’s allergic.” 

 

“It’s a big base, there’s room for both of them. I’m interpreting that look as a yes.” 

 

...

 

The zoo closes at eight, and they stay almost until then. The last exhibit they walk through is the desert habitats. It’s indoors and dark because most of the animals are nocturnal, a maze of dim passages built of stone for a more realistic effect and lined with windows into sandy, ethereal worlds. 

 

Daisy probably should have, but she doesn’t think anything of this until she hears May, a step behind her, murmur, “Do you want to leave?” 

 

She turns and catches sight of Jemma’s expression and her stomach drops. Her whole body is tight and the grip she has on her rolled-up map is white-knuckled, but she determinedly shakes her head. 

 

“I’m the one that put it on our itinerary,” she says. 

 

“That doesn’t mean we have to - “ Daisy starts, halfway reaching for Jemma’s elbow, but holding herself back. 

 

“No,” Jemma says stubbornly, shaking her head again. “I - I want to. I can. I’ve yet to see a spotted bat and they’re the fourth largest on the continent.” 

 

She steps nimbly around Daisy and leads the way down the deserted passage. Daisy spins and catches up, linking their arms again. 

 

“So the sonar thing, is that legit? Are bats actually miniature Daredevils?” 

 

“Echolocation, and it’s not quite the same as our apparent New York City vigilante…” 

 

May falls in on her other side, and as she gets wrapped up in explaining the biology and evolution of echolocation, Daisy feels some of her rigidity ease. 

 

... 

 

It’s almost nine before they make it back to the jet, arms loaded down with souvenirs. Daisy is carrying the biggest plush monkey she could find in the gift shop for Fitz. Jemma’s a little sunburnt despite the half gallon of sunscreen she went through and May drops into the pilot’s chair as though her muscles have turned to jelly, but it’s the pleasant sort of sticky exhaustion, the kind from a day well-spent. 

 

Instead of strapping herself in in the back, Daisy slides into the copilot seat. May flicks her eyes toward her once which Daisy takes as invitation enough. 

 

“We should do things like that more,” she says. “Just because we’re fugitives from the law doesn’t mean we can’t, you know, ride a rollercoaster every once in awhile. I vote Six Flags next.”

 

May rolls her eyes, but Jemma, half-asleep already but still plenty smug, says, “I told you it was a good idea.” 

 

“It was,” May admits after a minute, and Daisy looks around in time to see Jemma’s head shoot up in surprised delight. 

 

Her smile makes Daisy smile and she leans back in the copilot chair, every last granule of energy sapped from her body, but more thoroughly contented, she realizes, with Fitz’s monkey hugged to her chest and May guiding them up into the night sky and Jemma dozing off behind her, than she has been in a long time.


End file.
